Good Friend past back in November, 2005, Don 'Snuffy' Smith. One on the best Harley mechanic's around. He was a flat tracker back in the '40s and '50s. Everyone up in the Hi Desert went to him for lower end work. But you had to know him if you wanted the work done. He wouldn't just let anyone in the garage. I was lucky enough to be in the small circle of friends.
If we were working on our bikes and he noticed we need a special tool he would jump on his FXR and go back to his garage and make it . Ol’ Snuffy could make anything. Even at 76 years- old he rode with us all. Well, to make along story short, his son Brain from Tennessee came out to take care business, the house and all of Snuffy's estate. Which included a four and half car garages of Machinery, old parts and Motorcycles.
There was the 1976 Shovelhead Dresser which Brain needed help with, so we all pitch in, me, Mesa Steve and Glenn at GWF Bikes. We put new Avon tires, brakes, rotors, street cam, reworked the CV carb, new mufflers and this week we will put her on the Dyno. The motor was already freshly built by Snuffy. It was way cool for us all working on Snuffy's bike. But I bet he is up there with St Peter saying “What hell are those Boneheads doing now.”
Snuffy was the greatest. While doing all this, Glenn was also dropping in his 113″ S&S motor and Baker six speed into his ‘98 RoadKing. All this was way too much fun.
–Bob T.
I read Bob T's article about Snuffy Smith with interest. I too knew Snuffy, albeit for a much shorter time span and much later in his life. I first met Snuffy back in the mid to late '90s in the small desert town where he had retired. We did some bike trips together: Zion, Moab, most notably a run down to San Felipe, and then later a run down the Baja to La Paz and Cabo. That Baja run with Don was an event in my life that I'll not soon forget. He made it a real pleasure to be riding with him.
Snuffy was a great person who would give you the shirt off of his back if he liked you, and we got along pretty good (although I never needed a shirt). When I came to town, he'd pick me up at the airport and take me up to his place, where I got to use the guest house. In reality, his “guest house” was the main house. Snuffy stayed in the small house next door. Don't ask me why – although his workshop and garage were attached to it.
In the early evening I'd light a roaring fire in the stove over at the guest house and Don would come over and we'd commence telling lies well into the night. That fire would get so hot that we'd both be sweating before long. Sometimes I'd make tea (after I bought him a kettle) or hot cocoa, and when the mood struck, we'd cook up some ribs. His ribs were the most tender I've ever eaten. They would literally fall off the bone. Snuffy would make up a special batch of home made salsa – the best salsa I've ever had – and we'd dip chips and drink tea.
We were both big on dessert, so basically the meal was only a prelude to what we had picked up for the main event. Pie, ice cream and cheese usually followed.
So here's to you, Snuffy. I'll be making a solo run down the Baja in 2006 in your memory. May you be looking down and smiling.
–The Canadian, November 23, 2005
